


His Tea

by Emma_writes_things



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Adorable, F/M, Fluff, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:52:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1346434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma_writes_things/pseuds/Emma_writes_things
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, when its dark and she can't sleep, her feet trace the same steps, that lead her to tea, and to Fitz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Tea

There are some nights, when the humming ship keeps her awake, and her mind runs through blueprints for new tech gadgets, when she would follow the same routine. She sat up, reaching for her dressing gown as she left her bunk and walked into the high tech kitchen. The floor was a regulated temperature, keeping her bare feet from being chilled. She rubbed her eyes and covered a yawn as she filled a kettle and set it to heat on the stove. In the cupboard labeled ‘FitzSimmons’ she took out the large wooden box filled with tea. Her fingers ran over each flavour, delicately packed into small metal containers. Which type would suit her needs tonight?

Catmint, green and delicate, but perhaps too much caffeine for her purposes.

English breakfast, strong, maybe too strong, and far too early for breakfast tea.

Lemon and honey, no this wasn’t a cold, thank goodness.

Chamomile, to let her sleep and forget the troubles plaguing her mind.

Red rooibos, no, not something spice today.

Cream of Earl Grey, far too bitter for this night.

Her hand hovered over the last container, well worn, and burnished from years of acidic hands turning it to release the aromas of the tea inside. She held it, warming the container in her hands before she opened the lid and breathed deeply.

Cinnamon…cloves…anise…oranges…licorice…Fitz.

This was his tea, his personal blend, created from countless nights and days spend measuring and mixing and tasting and spewing and beginning the process all over again. It took him nearly a month to perfect it, to find the perfect blend of spices so he could have exactly what he wanted in the tea. This was what she needed tonight; this was what she would have.

The tea pot was dry on the rack and she turned it over, scooping heaping teaspoons of the loose tea into the pot. She closed the container, and returned it to its home. Her fingers tapped out a binary sequence of a new poison she was thinking off when the kettle whistled. She poured the boiling water over the leaves, watching them swirl around the pot until the settled in a small whirl. She let it steep, taking down two tea cups and setting them on their saucers. Honey was added into her cup, sweet was how she liked her tea.

The other cup stayed plain, nothing was needed for Fitz, and it was his tea after all. The tea now brewed, she carefully poured it into each cup, watching the steam unfurl and disappear into the air. She left the pot, knowing that soon May would be awake, and would more than likely finish the pot. She took the cups and let her feet lead her to Fitz.

He was asleep on his side curled around his pillow; sheets pushed down and tangled around his knees as he snored softly. She set his cup on the small table directly beside his bed, and set hers on the window sill. She stepped over him and sat behind him, holding her tea and looking out at the stars and clouds. Her hand moved through Fitz’ short hair, teasing at the small curls, she closed her eyes. Her mind was quieting, calming down, slowing from his blindingly fast pace.

“Second star t’the right.” Fitz yawned as he sat up and reached for his tea.

“And straight on till morning.” They sat in the silence of the ship, as it hummed with life around them and sipped their tea. Soon enough her eyes began to droop, as the clouds drifted by and the stars twinkled at them in the darkness of night. She drained her tea, setting the cup on the sill and moving to lie down. Fitz followed her, pulling the sheets around them both, and resting his head beside hers on the pillow.

“Silly Jemma.” He moved a loose strand of hair behind her ear and ran his thumb along her brow. “Too smart for our own good, now sleep and we’ll play with bio-chemicals tomorrow.” She smiled at him, closing her eyes and nuzzling his hand. She breathed in deeply.

Cinnamon…cloves…anise…oranges…licorice…Fitz.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written because I needed something soft and squishy and loving. Also because I need tea when I need to calm down, so this was the perfect way to do it.


End file.
